23. Judge
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Glancing at my phone, I see it’s nearly one in the morning. I turn Myla’s TV off and stroke Ryder’s soft, rounded belly. After he ate his dinner, he went into a food coma and hasn’t come out.
“She should be home by now,” I say to the unconscious kitten. “I’m starting to get worried.”
Her actions are reckless and idiotic, but my attempts to talk some sense into her have fallen on deaf ears. The thought of her being in danger is consuming me, suffocating any semblance of control I had left. This is the last time she’ll do this alone, even if I have to tail her ass and watch from the shadows.
It doesn’t take a psychologist for me to know what it’ll do to me to become part of her killing spree, but it’s preferable to the uncertainty I feel now. It’s been six hours since I saw her pull away from her apartment. My nervousness had me park around the corner and stalk her like a damn fool. I should’ve followed her right then, but I knew if she found out, it’d be just another reason for her to push me away.
I bring up her contact in my phone and call her again. This is my tenth try, and I’ve sent as many text messages, all with no response. How long do I let this play out before I call in the cavalry? If I make the call to Cy, only for her to turn up an hour later, she’ll feel betrayed, and I’ll lose her forever. If I wait too long—well, I can’t think about those ramifications.
Placing the kitten on a blanket, I decide I don’t give a shit if I’m wrong and piss her off. Her safety comes first, and my gut is telling me something is wrong. Without any proof to the contrary, I have to trust I’m making the right call.
“What?” Cy barks in greeting.
“Sorry to call so late, Prez, but I think we have a situation.”
“What kind of situation?”
“Can you meet me at the clubhouse? I’ve got a lot to say and I only want to say it once with everyone together.”
He grumbles something unintelligible, but I think I catch a string of curse words as things shuffle in the background. “All right. I’m up. See you in thirty.”
“Prez?”
“Yeah?”
“Better make it twenty.”
“That bad, huh?” He sighs. “Fine. Twenty.”
Once that call is made, I dial up Lucky. He doesn’t have a commute since he lives on the compound, so I rope him into calling everyone else while I get on the road.
“Yeah?” The word is clipped, and he’s out of breath.
“Need a favor.”
“Can it wait?” His tone turns playful. “I’m kinda in the middle of something, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m sorry, but it can’t. I need everyone at the clubhouse. Now.”
“Shit.” There’s a rustling and a frustrated female groan. “Need me to make the calls?”
“If you can.”
“On it.”
“And Lucky? You better loop Tinleigh in on this one.”
“Fuck,” he says before the line goes dead.
After making sure Ryder has everything he needs for the night, I lock up and hop on my bike. The ride seems to take forever, each second like an eternity as my mind spins with possibilities. I don’t know if this is the right decision, betraying the confidence of the woman I love, and it feels all kinds of wrong.
Damn her for putting me in this situation. I knew it would backfire, yet I still kept her secrets. Now, I have to stand in front of my family and tell them I violated rule number fucking one: the club comes first. If I make it out of this conversation with my life and my cut, I’ll be lucky. Not that either of those mean shit if something has happened to Myla. I’d gladly give up both if it meant she was alive and well.
I feel like fucking puking as I pull into the parking lot. Thankfully, it wasn’t a party night, so there aren’t a bunch of hangarounds to kick out. Before I go inside, I try calling Myla one last time. Like every other call, it goes right to voicemail. I stomp my boot into the gravel like a child, squeezing my cell so tight, I think I hear a crack. Fuck.
As I enter the clubhouse, my brothers form a solid wall in front of me. Their tense expressions and tightly crossed arms tell me they’re ready for action. I can’t meet their eyes as I move past them. My eyes land on Tinleigh sitting at the bar, surrounded by Char, Navy, and Jenson. A feeling of dread settles in my stomach, knowing I’m about to disappoint everyone in this room.
“Wanna tell us what this is about?” Cy’s stance is wide, his hands on his hips.
“It’s a long story. Why don’t you all take a seat?”
Grumbling, everyone pulls out one of the chairs tucked into the dining tables. Well, everyone but Cy. No one tells Prez what to do, and this was my reminder that I’m not in charge here. I feel the weight of his stare and swallow hard, my palms sweating and pressure building in my head.
“You all know I’ve been looking out for Myla,” I say. The second Tinleigh hears her sister’s name, she’s on her feet and moving closer. Lucky holds out a hand and brings her to stand between his legs, his hands protectively on her hips. “It’s no secret that she hasn’t been doing well since the incident.”
“You’re killing me, kid. Spit it out,” Cy says. He’s only ten or so years older than me, but to him, I’ve always been the kid he found fixing the pews in that church all those years ago.
“She was looking for a way to deal with all the things going on up here.” I tap my temple. “I swear, I didn’t know what she was going to do, and I only found out because I showed up to her place one night—just to check on her—and found her covered in blood.”
“What?” Tinleigh gasps out, clutching her throat.
“You better explain fast,” Lucky says, pulling Tinleigh onto his lap.
“She couldn’t get revenge on the men who took her since they’re all dead or in prison, so she decided to get revenge by killing other men she knew were just as bad.”
“How’d she do that?” Rigger asks.
“She tricked you into giving her a job working security at the Honey Pot. She wanted access to the database of clients you’ve turned away so she could compile a “kill list.” Then, she started working through it one by one, taking each man out.”
“You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.” Tinleigh’s eyes well with tears, and I hate myself for hurting my friend.
“I’m sorry.” I take two steps toward her, wanting to make this right, but the look on Lucky’s face stops me in my tracks. “She promised me that she just needed six months, then she would come clean, and stupidly, I agreed.”
“Why?” Cy asks.
“Why, what?”
“You forget I know you inside and out, and you aren’t one to lie or keep secrets, so there has to be a reason. Tell. Me. Why.”
Because I was so focused on Myla, I didn’t anticipate it leading back to my own secrets. I stutter, feeling like the world is closing in on me. With Myla sharing the weight of our betrayals, keeping our secrets was manageable, but without her, I can’t do it.
“He will,” Bones says. “Just not right now. We should focus on why we were all dragged out of bed.”
I give him a nod and, in this moment, I’m so fucking glad I told him when I did so I have someone on my side. “Tonight would’ve been her third time. . . doing this. . . but she’s been gone eight hours now, and I have a feeling something happened.”
“By ‘doing this,’ you mean she was planning on killing someone off that list?” Satyr asks.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right back.” He jumps up, no doubt running to grab his laptop from his cabin.
“Do you know who she was going after?” Rigger’s hands are balled in fists on the table.
“No. She never shared the list or her plans.” I admit defeatedly.
“Did you ever even ask?” Lucky throws out, his irritation growing.
“No. I knew that if I asked too many questions or pushed her too hard, she’d retreat and stop telling me anything at all. She didn’t want me to know any of it, and if I hadn’t shown up that night, I probably never would’ve found out.” My shoulders slump. “I was trying to be a good friend to her because she feels alone.”
“But she’s not alone. I’m literally her twin. Why didn’t she tell me?” Tinleigh’s tone is defensive and hurt. I don’t blame her, but I also don’t think she knew her sister very well.
“You’ll have to ask her that. What I do know is that she had this big, soul-crushing thing happen to her, and afterward, she saw everyone moving on while she was still hurting deeply. It made her feel like she couldn’t bother anyone with how affected she still was.” I meet Tinleigh’s gaze. “And I’m not trying to be mean here, but you’ve been busy lately.”
Her face falls while Lucky’s jaw ticks. I reckon I’m a few words away from getting my face rearranged, but it won’t stop me from coming clean with all of it. Well, most of it. Some things will stay private between Myla and me. Lucky reluctantly lets Tinleigh go when she moves toward me. I’m preparing for a slap, but instead, she wraps her arms around me in a tight hug.
“You’re right. I knew she was struggling, but for once, I just wanted to be happy.”
“And rightfully so. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve all the good,” I whisper.
She pulls away but takes my hands, fat tears rolling down her face. “Thank you for saying that, but it’s not true. Myla and I are bound by more than blood, and I had no right to move on when she was fighting to heal. It was selfish, and I’m grateful you were there for her.”
“Come here, baby.” Lucky pulls her away from me, wrapping her in his arms while she breaks down.
Satyr jogs back into the room, sitting back down and opening his laptop. “You said she got the list from clients we rejected?”
I move behind him, watching over his shoulder. “Yeah.”
“Okay. I can look for all the reports that have been run with that specific criteria, and. . . boom. Here is the exact report she printed.” He scoots his chair to the side so Cy, Rigger, and I can take a look. “Was she starting at the top and working her way down?”
“I don’t think so because”—I point to the fifth name on the list—“Johnathan Barlow was her second target, and she mentioned that she was only looking at locals.”
“Okay, so let’s remove all out-of-towners. That only gets rid of a couple names.” Satyr scoots back up to the table. “Give me a minute, and I’ll find out who met their maker lately. That’ll tell us who the first one was.”
Ten minutes later, we have the name of the first guy Myla killed. Satyr brings up the news articles about both of her victims and reads out the pertinent information for everyone to hear. “The first dude was stabbed like forty times while he was tied to his office chair. The authorities found a shit ton of kiddie porn on his computer. His murder is unsolved. The second dude had his carotid slit in a hallway at a nightclub. There were no cameras, and police have no leads, though they speculate it was self-defense because he had evidence of bruising on the back of his hand.”
“The bruises and split lip,” Tinleigh says.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“That only takes two more names off the list. If she’s in trouble, we don’t have time to hunt down every name on this list.” Rigger motions to the screen.
“Look for the ones with the worst allegations against women or children. That’s who she’d go after first,” Tinleigh suggests.
“Okay, give me a minute to look through the reasons we denied them.” Satyr dives back in, and everyone spreads out, talking amongst themselves. I stand in place, feeling helpless.
“After this is all over, we’re gonna have a talk, you and me,” Cy says, and I nod. “This shit is not okay. Do you have any fucking clue how badly this could’ve landed on the club?”
“I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” I no sooner have the words out before my head unexpectedly snaps to the side and pain blooms on my cheek.
“You should be fuckin’ sorry. Look around, Judge. Every single person in this room relies on this club thriving.” Cy shakes out his hand. “And you just spit in all of our faces.”
I blink and stretch my mouth wide, checking my face to see if anything is broken, but I don’t think it is. Which means he went easy on me because that man has broken more noses, jaws, and cheekbones than I can count.
“Still not sorry,” I say lowly.
Cy’s expression is incredulous as he stares me down, his hand still clenched into a fist. I don’t know why I didn’t just shut up. Maybe because I deserve the pain, or maybe it’s because I want someone else to know another truth I’ve been keeping secret.
“Fuck,” he says through a clenched jaw, understanding dawning on his face. “You love her. I didn’t see it before, but it’s clear as fuckin’ day now.”
I feel their accusatory gazes on me, but I keep my eyes trained on the floor, not admitting or denying anything. I’ve done enough damage for one day, and any assumptions they make are out of my control.
“You’re in love with my sister?” Tinleigh asks, a hand pressed to her temple. “I can’t believe I was so absorbed in my own life that I missed so much of hers. Does she love you back?”
Fuck, if that question doesn’t hurt more than any swing Cy could take at me because the truth is, I don’t fucking know. Maybe she loves me, or maybe she used me as an escape. Either way, she’s mine.
Apparently, my watery eyes are answer enough because Tinleigh’s hugging me again. “We’ll get her back and figure all this out.”
“I hope so.”